


High as Hell

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people sleep while on pain meds. Not Tim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High as Hell

_“Jason,”_ Tim whispered from his place on the couch. He lay with his shoulders against the armrest, staring up at the ceiling with a slight frown.

“What?”

“We have sunshine, right?”

Jason lowered his book, the leather of the chair creaking as he turned to give Tim a look. “Uhm. Yes, we have sunshine. What kind of question is that?”

“And we have starshine.”

“Yeah?”

Tim sat up, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared hard at him. “Then why is there no _moonshine_?”

Jason waited a beat, one eyebrow arched before: “because my dealer doesn’t sell it anymore.”

“Jason I’m  _serious_. They just call it-.”

“Seriously sleep deprived. Go to bed, weirdo.”

…

Bruce did not startle when Tim, whom he thought was dead asleep, jolted into a sitting position, a look of sheer confusion contorting his features.

“Tim? Something wrong?”

_“I don’t understand,”_ his son murmured miserably.

“Understand what?”

“Why letters make sense. Like, who was the one to give letters their sounds?”

“The alphabet originated-”

“No like.” Tim paused, waving one hand around as he tried to form his thoughts into words. “Like, they’re just a bunch of lines, and we put them together so that they make words. But why do they look like that? Who decides what counts as a letter, and what’s just a… a scribble? Who shaped them? Why are they shaped like they are? Why-”

“Tim,” Bruce interrupted quickly, swallowing down the laugh that he knew would only serve to frustrate the boy more. “Those are very good questions. You should sleep on them, and I’m sure the answers will come to you later.”

“Yeah yeah, okay. Don’t let me forget.”

“I won’t.”

…

Tim froze like a deer caught in the headlights when Dick walked into the kitchen. The elder paused mid-step, eyes flicking back and forth between Tim and the massive sandwich in his hands.

“Tim… you’re eating again?”

“I’m  _hungry_ ,” Tim shot back defensively, taking a bite of his meal.

“We had dinner barely half an hour ago.”

“Your point?”

“You- okay. Whatever.” Dick shook his head, letting a smile slide to his face. Usually, people on pain medication slept and relaxed. Not Tim; no, Tim would just talk more than all of them combined, or eat enough for the whole family, much to everyone’s amusement (and annoyance, respectively).

…

“So,” Tim began, and Damian was already grabbing his earbuds because he knew that that ‘so’  signaled the beginning of a very pointless and weird conversation. It happened almost every time Tim took meds, and usually Damian could manage to escape, but not this day.

“Please don’t, Drake.”

“Just hear me out.”

“I’d rather not.”

Tim continued anyway, flopping bonelessly onto the couch opposite the one Damian was lounging on. “Okay, so yesterday I went out for a bite with Tam, right? Anyway, I got a salad and-”

“Wow how very interesting. Now if you-”

“ _Shhh_ don’t interrupt. So I got a salad, and I couldn’t help but think like, how many people sacrificed themselves so that I could eat that salad?”

“What?”

“I mean, someone would’ve had to eat random plants and decide, ‘oh, this tastes better than other plants. Let’s eat it’.”

“Drake stop-”

“And also, some unfortunate soul probably tried making himself a salad but used the wrong plant and died from poisoning or something, right?”

“Drake really.”

“How many brave people go unmentioned in history? Everyone who gave their lives in the testing of which foods were actually edible and which weren’t. All so that I could eat a salad.”

Damian stared at his delusional brother, backing slowly, step by step, from the room. “You… think on that.” he said as he reached the door, “I’m just. just going to leave.” he slipped out, silently closing the door behind him, shaking his head as Tim’s rambling continued as if he still had an audience.


End file.
